The Three Doctors: Fear Within The Trenches
by DE4N01234
Summary: The night before World War I's infamous Battle of the Somme, a deadly beast is roaming the Allied trenches. Meanwhile, a major glitch in time sees the three most recent incarnations of The Doctor crash landing in the exact same trenches. Can they stop the beast from killing the soldiers, conflicted with the knowledge that those men will soon be marching to their doom?
1. Chapter 1: The Fall of Night

**A horror story within the trenches of World War I. Expect appearances from the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Doctors if this is well received! :)**

**Chapter One **  
**The Fall of Night**

"I wonder what it's like up there."  
"Where?"  
"Up in the stars."  
"Probably a damn sight quieter than down here."

Private Lee Alson scribbled frantically on to his notepad with little but a small plank of wood to comfort his backside. Part of him felt as though he had to agree with Private Benjamin's analysis of the night sky, but the other (slightly more hopeful) section of his mind kept a light view on the proceedings.

That wasn't to say that Lee didn't have his dark days. Just two days ago, three members of his platoon were killed by German machine gun fire having been ordered to scout the enemy trenches. One of the soldiers, Tom, had been a very close friend. Lee ensured that he remembered Tom's final words every morning: "We might be stuck here - and it might be because of some big bosses who don't know how to speak nicely to each other - but as long as we've got each other, this is home. See you soon."

Tom's body didn't make it back to the trenches. A British sniper said he could see his head in No Man's Land and that to even attempt to retrieve the remains would be a suicide mission in itself. Lee thought up no more hopeful scenarios on the matter, but had instead taken to scribbling in his journal every day.

"It's quiet tonight, to be fair" he eventually replied to Ben.  
"Hur," Ben's reply was little more than an emphatic laugh. "For how long I wonder?"

Lee had nothing more to say to that. He knew Ben was right - the Germans never left them alone for long and now that it was summer, the nights were shorter and the days were longer meaning a much more risky lifestyle for anyone attempting to avoid an enemy sniper. Still, he wasn't going to let Ben know that. If one person gave into fear, what was to stop anyone else?

It was 2:12am, and the pencil was slowly but surely running out of lead. Lee stowed the pad away in his trouser pocket and sighed, placing the pencil behind his ear and staring upwards at the moon once more.

"Full moon," he sighed, blinking at its light. Ben didn't reply, but Lee wasn't particularly expecting him to. There always came a point where the conversation became too stale to continue. Instead, Lee's gaze fell over the stars and sighed.

"Wouldn't mind a trip up there. I bet they manage it one day. Space travel, can you imagine?"

Silence.

"Ben?"  
Lee became tense, bringing his attention back to Earth with a huge crash.

Ben wasn't there.

"Ben? Where'd you go?" Lee stood up, whispering so as not to wake any of his fellow soldiers. "Ben? We're not supposed to just abandon our posts."

Still no reply. Lee's pulse was beginning to quicken and, with short steps, he made his way to the furthest corner of the trench. Ben's belongings were exactly where he left them, complete with the picture of his wife, Elaine, and their three year old daughter Jennifer - only his watch was missing, the watch which was actually given to him by Tom.

It was when Lee bent down to pick up the photograph that he heard it - a heart-stopping scream, loud enough to disturb both the Allied and enemy armies across No Man's Land. Lee's hands flapped in the air and he had to stifle a scream himself. "Ben?" he called. Placing the photograph in his pocket, he quickened his pace to a jog through the trenches. "Ben, where are you? What's happening?"

With both fear and distress coursing through his body as he ran, Lee didn't notice the most obvious of signals which might have given him a clue as to what had happened to his friend. As it was, the young soldier hundreds of miles from home kept running, searching and calling for Ben to no avail.

Minutes passed and as panic overtook Lee's senses, he fell. The moonlight shone down on him as though sending a message itself and, slowly, he raised his head.

The soldiers.

They were all dead. Every single one, their innards ripped from their bodies or placed upon barbed wire as though they were trophies of their killer.

Tears fell from Lee and crashed upon the soggy Earth, but not before he realised the truth. Turning on his side and staring up at the sky, waiting, he understood and, as all men eventually do, he feared death.

With a great howling cry and a fiercely devastating blow, the beast struck. Lee screamed as night fell around his senses.

Please rate and review because I'll be continuing this story with the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Doctors if I get a good response :) Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2: A Good Man Goes To War

**Chapter Two**

**A Good Man Goes To War**

"What's up with you now, eh?" The Eleventh Doctor raced around his TARDIS console room, hammering buttons as fast as he could. His mystical space ship was acting very peculiar indeed, for instead of increasing the volume of the console's MP3 player as The Doctor had requested (the Time Lord was once again obsessed with revisiting his performances as 'triangle player' in Beethoven's symphonies), the ship was ringing its cloister bell louder than he'd ever heard.

"Uhh, uhh…" The Doctor fixed his bow tie and grabbed a small mallet from underneath the console, using it to tap his forehead for a moment. "What is it, what's wrong?" The ship swerved through the Time Vortex, thrusting The Doctor forwards and, instead of regaining his balance he slipped and violently crashed his head against the TARDIS console. Seeing stars (metaphorically for a change), The Doctor fell back and landed on the deck of the time machine.

Feeling his consciousness departing him, the Time Lord groaned. "Where…uh…" The cloister bell rang louder and louder while The Doctor's eyes unwillingly closed. With an almighty bang, the ship crash landed with its captain fast asleep.

A fez lay on the TARDIS deck next to a sonic screwdriver. The cloister bell had ceased, and the TARDIS itself had completely shut down. No lights. No sound. No movement.

The Doctor stirred. His jet black hair lay matted across his face, and as he reached for his screwdriver, his eyes burst open.

"Okay." He jumped to his feet. "TARDIS has switched itself off. Why? Hmm…" Stepping up to the controls, he wiggled the hot and cold taps. "No response." Waggling his screwdriver at the central tower, he called "Amy! Rory! Whe -"

Sighing, he placed the screwdriver back into his top pocket and bowed his head. He had to get used to being alone. Manhattan had taught him that. They'd only been gone a week (or at least a week by his standards) yet it felt like years, and he needed something to occupy his mind.

"No response," he mumbled again before lifting his head and rubbing his eyes. "Right then. Nothing to lose, old girl." He patted the console and straightened his bow tie. "I promise I'll come back. Wish me luck."

With a spin of his heel, The Doctor marched towards the door of the TARDIS and, with little more than a second's hesitation, opened the doors.

"Ah."

Not for the first time, The Doctor found himself facing an armada of rifles pointed directly at his face. Raising his arms in surrender, he grinned.

"Hello! I'm The Doctor!" He closed the door behind him quickly.

A rugged, heavyset man with a wide array of medals stood directly in front of The Doctor, with a small hand pistol pointed directly between his eyes. The Time Lord went cross-eyed trying to keep it in focus.

"Uh…"

"He's a German spy!" called a young, timid soldier who barely looked any bigger than the rifle he was holding, and several of his fellow combatants nodded in agreement. The sergeant in front of The Doctor made no indication that he had heard the boy, instead choosing to narrow his eyes.

"Who are you?" The accent was undoubtedly British. "And how did you do that?" He nodded at the TARDIS. The Doctor blinked.

"Oh! The dematerialization! Yes, the cloister bell was ringing so I assumed something very negative and timey wimey was going on so I tried to jettison the karaoke bar and things went a little haywire, but by the beard of Rassilon am I lucky that I landed safe -"

The sergeant cocked his gun.

"…ly." The Doctor finished and gulped. "Okay, I promise, it looks a little weird but I guarantee you I'm a friend. Look, here are my credentials!"

He showed the sergeant a piece of psychic paper. Seemingly satisfied, the military leader lowered his gun.

"It says here your name is John Smith."

"Yes."

"From the University of Gallifrey."

"Uh…okay, yes."

"And you are here to investigate some paranormal activity?"

The Doctor spun round and glared at the TARDIS.

"Well. I suppose I must be." Turning back to smile at the troops, who were now a little more at ease, The Doctor sighed. "How can I be of service, Sergeant…"

"Sergeant will do," the officer said. "Names are not essential here." The Doctor grinned.

"Blimey, you're going to love me then!"

"Mr Smith. You will follow me."

The Doctor lowered his hands and wandered in the sergeant's wake, several troops bringing up the rear. The moonlight shone upon the trench, and the Time Lord began to wonder what sort of mess his TARDIS had landed him in this time. Paranormal activity? He knew there was no such thing, his experience with the army of ghosts had taught him that much.

The Sergeant led him into a small bunker in which hundreds of battle plans and papers were laid upon a table. "Stand guard outside,", he ordered two soldiers. "The rest of you, get some sleep. There is no danger here."

"Not until tomorrow morning, sir," mumbled one trooper, his helmet almost twice the size of the head it sat upon. The Sergeant's lips threatened to smile.

"You will request permission to speak freely, soldier. Now do as I have commanded." The boy departed along with several other men, leaving The Doctor and the Sergeant alone in the bunker.

He was quite an old man, The Doctor observed. It was only when he removed his hat and placed it upon a chair that the Sergeant's grey hair was revealed, and by removing his glasses he would have looked impossibly frail. The silver beard still gave him that sense of menace, however, and simply by looking at his chest, the medals clearly made a point: this man had fought (and won) for a long time.

With an almighty clang, the gravity of the situation hit The Doctor and unwillingly, his hands clasped and rubbed together frantically.

"What year is this?" he blurted out, unaware of the ridiculousness of the question. The Sergeant seemingly ignored him.

"Sit," he commanded, pushing out a chair. What little light that there was inside the bunker lit up The Doctor's face, while the Sergeant was almost covered in darkness.  
"For now, I ask the questions."

The Doctor did as he was told, one eye on the revolver casually in the Sergeant's right hand.

"That blue police box. How did it arrive in our trenches?"

"Listen -"

"Answer the question, Doctor."

"It's all very compli -"

"Or do you prefer Mr. Smith?" The Sergeant gave a half smile, and The Doctor became suspicious. Waves of worry washed over his brilliant mind and his two hearts thumped a little faster in his chest.  
"Either or," he replied casually, keeping the conversation light. "But you wouldn't believe it if I told you." The Sergeant made to ask another question, but The Doctor interrupted. "Now, an eye for an eye. What year is this?"

"How can you possibly be unsure of that?" The Sergeant was definitely smiling now. "The whole world is watching, these times will go down in history. If there is a future for this world at all." The Doctor sighed.

"Sorry. Been away for a while. Personal matters, travelling and such. Not really been keeping an eye on the news."

"This is 1916, Mr. Smith. And you are in France on the eve of the glorious Somme Offensive. Tomorrow, we are going over the top and we are going to destroy the German troops." The Sergeant's eyes were glowing, as though he was speaking more to himself than to The Doctor.

"Uh huh…" The Doctor's mind was racing. "Look, I'm sorry, but I really must -"

"And yet, we are facing an enemy in our own trenches. A beast."

The Doctor's curiosity was dripping with temptation. A beast? In World War I France? He grinned darkly to himself. A beast at this time could be any of the humans causing this war. "A beast you say?" he replied slowly. "Perhaps your troops are experiencing some pre-match jitters? Hallucinating? Seeing things?" The Sergeant leaned forward and stared closely into The Doctor's eyes.

"I have seen it, Mr. Smith. This night, the night of the fullest moon, I witnessed it. A whole squadron wiped out by a monster."

Keeping up a low-key façade, The Doctor leaned backwards casually. "Well then. Perhaps it can aid you tomorrow…in your big war effort. Over the top." He stood up, leaning forward now and staring very hard into the officer's eyes. "And you're going to need every man you can get. Because those soldiers out there are not men. They are boys. And you are feeding them to the Germans like lamb to the slaughter. Like fools. Like pieces of timber entering a shredder."

The Sergeant stood up and put one hand on The Doctor's shoulder, as a friend would reassure another. "Oh, Mr. Smith. If we are to die…then you are to join -"

An almighty clang burst through the air, and the soldiers outside covered their ears with their hands, screaming. The Doctor, panic stricken, burst through the door and ran outside to his TARDIS.

"Oh no no no!" He sprinted towards his ship as the ever-familiar sound of de-materialization filled his senses. "Where are you going, no no no no!" In moments, the TARDIS was gone in a flash of white light. Alone, friendless and without aid, The Doctor was lost; sinking to his knees and allowing his trousers to sink into the mud, he ran his hands through his hair in grief. "I don't understand, how did it possibly disappear on its own? Where's it gone?"

The Sergeant appeared behind him and brought him to his feet. "Well then, Mr. Smith. Your mode of transport seems to have abandoned you. It looks like you are one of us after all. Welcome to World War I."

Please rate and review :) Another familiar face coming up in Chapter 3!


	3. Chapter 3: A Rip In Time

**Thanks so much for reading so far, folks :) Please rate and review. Introducing our spiky-haired Doctor number Ten...Allons-y!**

**Chapter Three**  
**A Rip In Time**

"No."

The Tenth Doctor's face was absolute; death was a force which did not control him, and he would certainly not let an Ood dictate his future. His song was not over, nor would it be - not yet.

Pulling the TARDIS screen towards him, he set a course to the future, as far as he could possibly go. Gallifreyan text and symbols flashed at his unseeing eyes, for The Doctor was barely paying attention to his surroundings.

Captain Adelaide Brooke. That was her name. He promised then and there to remember it. She should have died a hero, a legend in history but now, because of The Doctor, she had died because of shame and fear. He hung his head, his spiky brown hair almost touching the console.

"I'm sorry, old girl," he whispered, patting his TARDIS interior. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

The TARDIS made no reply. She was empty, save for her thief and his two broken hearts.

Unbidden in his mind's eye, The Doctor saw the haunted face of Carmen and her warning ringing in his ears:

"Your song is ending, sir. It is returning. Returning through the dark. He will knock four times."

"He will knock four times," The Doctor repeated out loud, sitting down on the sofa next to the console. "What is returning? What is it?"

Perhaps if he had had someone on the ship with him, he could have speculated, even used them as a soundboard, much as he used them as an escape from everything else. He was really lost without them.

"Oh, Donna," he mumbled. "You were right. I shouldn't be alone. Rose. Martha. Even you, Jack. I wonder where you are n-"

His nostalgic mutterings were abruptly disturbed by an almighty clang from the TARDIS console - the cloister bell was ringing alarmingly, and the ship itself had come to a halt. The Doctor stood up immediately, putting on his glasses and staring at the computer screen which was still displaying blurry lines of Gallifreyan.

"What?" he shouted out loud, reading the alien language in front of him. "But…what?!"

Thrusting the screen aside, he grabbed his long brown coat and ran to the TARDIS doors, his face full of panic. Pulling the doors of the Police Box open as hard as he could, The Doctor had to steady himself as he suppressed a scream.

"This is not good. This is very very not good." Placing his hands behind his head with his eyes darting left to right frantically, The Doctor could do little but stare out of his small space ship as the entire time vortex crumbled around him. "What the hell is going on?"

Unwittingly leaving the doors open, he darted back to the console with the intention of landing somewhere - anywhere - but he stopped when he finally looked up at the column.

The entire interior of the TARDIS had turned a bright, blood red - a potentially devastating paradox was about to occur on an enormous scale, and there was nothing The Doctor could do to stop it. He pumped the levers on the console as hard as he could, and he failed to remember a time he had ran this fast around the circular control pod, but in the end he gave up.

"I guess this is it," he muttered, stepping back and running his hands through his hair. With one look at the TARDIS console and one hand on his head, The Doctor attempted to remove his glasses. "I'll find you. I promise," he whispered to the ship, but suddenly the machine crashed against the walls of the vortex, knocking the doors violently against the interior of the ship.

There was an impossibly bright flash of light, a yell of fear and shock from The Doctor, and in an enormous blast of wind, he was thrown through the doors and into the haze of the crumbling time vortex itself.

When The Doctor finally awoke with a groan, his vision was blurred and even without touching anything, he could tell his hands were covered in dirt. Was he dead?

Clearly not. For a start, no knocks had met his ears and secondly, his senses were more or less intact. Looking down at his tattered and faded blue suit, he sighed. "Getting sick of having to replace these." Sitting up and rubbing the back of his head, he nearly vomited as a result of the sudden movements. "Okay. Let's take it slow."

He examined his hands, noting that he hadn't regenerated. "Still as lanky and thin as ever," he observed with a small smile. "I can't have been rolling around the time vortex for long. Okay. Legs. I've still got legs." His vision was still blurry, but it was only when The Doctor removed his glasses that he realised why - they were cracked.

Stowing them in his pockets, the Time Lord finally stood up and took in his surroundings, regaining his balance by leaning on something made of tweed - a jacket.

"Oh, sorry!" he mumbled, stepping backwards and half ignoring the man sitting next to where he stood.

There was no reply, and The Doctor took in his situation. It appeared he was in some sort of trench - a bunker, perhaps - and it was obviously night time, given the darkness outside and the use of a candle inside. Maps, statistics and charts were spread out like leaves on trees on the wall in front of him and for a second, he leaned forward and looked at them.

"July…1916..."

There was something vaguely important about that date, The Doctor remembered, but for the moment it escaped him. Judging by both the written language and the almost barbarian living conditions he was standing in, he determined that he was on Earth.

The Doctor stepped back thoughtfully with his hands in his pockets. His sneakers were covered in muck, and it was only when he looked down at them and wrinkled his nose that he became fully aware of the stranger behind him who seemed intent on staring at him.

"Hello," he smiled, extending his hand. "I'm The Doctor."

The stranger, whose face was half covered in darkness and the other half eerily seen by candle light, did likewise. "Yes, I know," he said mysteriously, and then sighed. The Doctor didn't quite know what to make of this man, but he certainly wasn't a fan of his bow tie. Sitting down opposite him, he decided to take a friendly and cautious approach.

"Do you, er, live here?" he asked. "I'm sort of…new in town…"

"Yes, I know," the stranger grinned, setting the hairs on The Doctor's back on edge. "I saw you materialize right there -" he nodded his head towards the spot in which The Doctor had awoken - "and there was a rather large flash of white light. If I had to guess, I would take a gander that, somewhere, a rift in the time vortex was forced open and your ship - which, I'm guessing again, is bigger on the inside - decided to thrust you out. You yourself have no idea why, how or when this happened. Right?"

The Doctor's eyes furrowed. Something was very wrong here, and his mind was racing. _Brave hearts_,_ Doctor_ he thought to himself.

"Who are you?" he asked, leaning forward to take a good look at the man. He'd never met him before in his life. "And what are you doing here? Where are we?"

The stranger adjusted his bow tie and revealed his entire face in the candle light. His hair, jet black and striking, quivered in a small breeze and The Doctor suddenly felt an increasingly creepy sense of foreboding.

"Who am I?" he said, a small, dark smile curving across his lips as he extended his hands in an imitation of his new visitor's greeting. As he spoke, a howl as though from a beast echoed through the still night air. "I'm The Doctor."

Please rate and review! :) I hope I got Ten's characterization right, I wrote him a little less bouncy and excited because this is him JUST after the very dark Waters of Mars episode.


	4. Chapter 4: The Man In The Mirror

**Thank you for reading and reviewing so far folks, I really hope you enjoy this next action packed chapter! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...the meeting of Ten and Eleven!**

**Chapter Four**  
**The Man in the Mirror**

"But…but…"

The Eleventh Doctor leaned back in his chair and allowed his Tenth counterpart to stutter his way into silence.

"I don't…er…how? I don't remember…where's…but the paradoxes…what on Earth is that around your neck?!" Ten finally came to a halt. Eleven grinned childishly.

"It's a bow tie. You wear bow ties now. Bow ties are cool. " Apparently automatically, he adjusted it and smiled wider, clasping his hands. "Now then. Any other completely irrelevant questions?"

Ten wrinkled his nose in disgust, before running one hand through his spiky hair. "So go on then. Which one are you?" he nodded at Eleven, still unable to take in their predicament. How on Earth did they end up in the trenches of the First World War? More importantly, why? "In fact, no." He stopped Eleven before he spoke, sense returning to his stress-addled mind.

"Prove it."

"I'm sorry?" Eleven inquired, smiling politely

"Prove that you're me. I've never had a fashion disaster quite like that -" Ten grinned for a moment, and Eleven did the same. "Except perhaps -"

"- the one with the big hair and the multicoloured dream-coat," Eleven finished for him. "Our sixth incarnation." Sitting up, he became serious. "Fine. You want me to prove it. Here it comes."

Eleven sighed, and Ten's hand instinctively reached for his sonic screwdriver, ready to fight back any threat this stranger might impose.

"Bad Wolf Bay. The words you should have said. To her."

The memory hit Ten like a steam train and he immediately took a step back, eyes fixed on Eleven's solemn features.

"Don't," he pleaded.

"The moment that she finally confessed what you'd always known but chose not to believe."

"I'm telling you, stop it."

"You should have said 'Rose Tyler, I l-'"

"Okay okay!" Ten placed his hands over his ears. "Don't play games. Which number are you then?"

"You'd be surprised at how quickly your fashion sense improves," Eleven smirked, rubbing his hands together gleefully and bouncing forward on his feet. Ten's face fell.

"Oh you are kidding," he slapped a palm to his own face and slid it downwards. "You're the one after me?

"Correct first time, sir, and may I say it is a pleasure to see you again!" Eleven laughed joyously and shook Ten's hand with both of his own. "Although I admit the whole paradox thing and the beast roaming the trenches, and especially the Sergeant claiming he'll kill me if I attempt to leave may dampen the proceedings somewhat…and the German soldiers across the field who will also kill me if I attempt to leave…hmm…I guess we're in it together now, eh?" Eleven slapped Ten's shoulder and laughed. "Allons-y! I used to love saying that! Do you still say it? In fact, where are you now? Cat nuns? Daleks on the empire state building? The Master? Ooh! The Ood! I bet you've done the Ood by now!"

Ten said nothing - in fact his jaw was just about ready to hit the floor, and he was finding it particularly difficult to speak. "Eh…" he said hoarsely. "Well…just…" his voice struggled to regain its strength. "Y'know. Mars and stuff."

Eleven's smile slid slowly.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Ten's head lowered in shame and he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry."

"No, no…quite alright, I shouldn't have pressed…" Their eyes failed to meet for a moment, and it was only the sound of footsteps behind them which broke the awkward silence.

"Follow my lead," mumbled Eleven through the corner of his lips. Ten looked at him in disbelief.

"I'm not taking orders from someone I barely know!"

"I'm you, if you really are as clever as we think you are then you'll do as I say!" Eleven hurriedly whispered. Ten opened his mouth to retort, but before he could argue his successor, soldiers entered the bunker with their guns pointed at both of The Doctors.

"Hands up. Don't try anything stupid." The Sergeant swiftly made his way through the line of troops and came face to face with Ten and Eleven, stopping suddenly as his eyes met Ten's.

"Who the bloody hell are you and how did you get here?" he asked. Once again, Ten's planned response was interrupted.  
"Private Cook, search him."

"Yes, sir."

A soldier quickly and clumsily stepped forward, one hand holding his helmet on his head and the other placing his rifle on the table. "K-keep your arms up," he muttered to Ten.

Ten did as he was told, rolling his eyes as the soldier placed his hands in areas The Doctor would rather have kept untouched. He clocked Eleven half-laughing at him out of the corner of his eye and glared at him.

"Sir, I've found something!" Private Cook excitedly pulled Ten's sonic screwdriver from his coat pocket and presented it to The Sergeant. Ten attempted to grab it back but was hushed by several rifles taking aim at his body.

Eleven, on the other hand, was grinning gleefully. "Oh it's the blue one!" he exclaimed, staring at the screwdriver which was currently under examination from The Sergeant. "I loved that one, until I accidentally…er…blew it up…"

"You what?" Ten snapped, wheeling round to glare at Eleven. "You blew it up?" Eleven grinned at him apologetically.

"Well, it was…Y'know…first day out in this body, busy day…probably shouldn't give you any heads up. Probably told you too much already in fact…"

Ten rolled his eyes in a mixture of frustration and confusion. Turning back to converse with The Sergeant, he suddenly became nervous.

"May I have that back please?" he asked as politely as he could. The Sergeant ignored him, instead pressing the screwdriver's central button. The signature whirring noise issued from the device.

"This is most peculiar," he muttered to himself. "A tool for building…which emits noise?" Eleven became a little anxious now too, and glanced at Ten's fidgety demeanour.

"He really needs that back," he tried to plead with The Sergeant. "That sort of technology should not be in your hands, not yet." The Sergeant released the button, but did not hand the screwdriver back.

"Help us win the war and you shall reacquire your device," he said simply as if it was easier done than said. Ten stared blankly.

"Please," he said, lowering his arms slowly. The soldiers cocked their guns. "No, no no no! Please, I just…you don't understand what you're dealing with he -"

There was a stupendously loud crash, and the entrance to the bunker collapsed. Ten failed to keep his balance and fell backwards, landing with a thump on the hard soil. "Doctor!" he cried, noting how strange it was to be shouting his own name. "Doctor, where are you?" He could see no sign of the soldiers - the rubble was cutting them off, save for a few loose rocks. Moonlight was creeping through into the darkness.

"Here!" Amidst the dust and debris flying around, Ten could just about see Eleven's arm waving to him from beneath a collapsed table. "Are you alright?"

Ten didn't reply, his eyes fixed on his sonic screwdriver which was currently soaring through the air. With a huge effort, he outstretched his lanky arm and caught it mid-flight, but no sooner had he relished in his victory than he was brutally slammed against the wall by an enormous, furry arm.

"Woah!" he screamed, seeing stars as, to mix with the horrendously distorting dust, his vision became blurry. "Doctor!" he shouted, noticing Eleven slowly arising from his wooden prison. "Doctor, look out!" Ten had no idea where the huge creature in the bunker had come from, but it was now making a bee-line straight for his successor who had barely stood up and was still struggling to make anything out in the cloudy, brown air.

"Oi!" he yelled, as he bumped into the huge being. "Now what the -"

His words were cut short as the beast grabbed his shoulders and raised him high in the air. "Uh, Doctor!" he yelled, "If you have a plan, I suggest you put it into action right now!"

Ten did have a plan, but putting it into action was proving to be tricky. "Hold on!" he shouted, struggling to make his way towards Eleven, who was trying to reach his own sonic screwdriver in his tweed pocket. "Can you reach your screwdriver?"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Eleven roared, as the beast (which was still a shadowy figure as far as Ten could see) raised its hideous claw and prepared to strike. Ten was panic-stricken, fearful for what was about to happen to his future incarnation - before he tripped and fell to his knees. Stuck and unable to reach him in time, he knew his plan wouldn't work from here but there was nothing for it and he gave it his best shot. Pointing the sonic screwdriver at the creature, he pushed the button as hard as he could.

Nothing happened.

"Oh, c'mon, c'mon…" Ten slammed the screwdriver against his palm, hoping against hope that some miracle was about to happen. With one last ditch attempt, he pointed the screwdriver and pressed the button once again…

The beast dropped Eleven - whose face was now scrunched up in anticipation - and raised its absurdly huge claws to its ears as the sound which came from the screwdriver threatened to burst its ear drums. With a screeching howl, it dropped to its four legs and ran from the bunker. Ten himself was having trouble hearing or seeing anything, until the dust cloud in front of his eyes cleared and an outstretched hand met his.

"Thank you," he looked up at his saviour and - not for the first time - his jaw hit the floor.

"Don't mention it," the leather clad man said in a heavy Northern accent. "That should be it buggered off for a while. At least until we all become lovely and dead and it can enjoy eating our corpses in peace from sonic screwdrivers." The man was pointing his own sonic screwdriver at the exit to the bunker, and Ten understood - the combined efforts from both screwdrivers had been much more effective than just one.

"Uh huh…" Ten stood up, aghast. Eleven was still panting on the ground, and it was not until he rolled over clutching his sides that he noticed what Ten could see. He stood up and spun round quicker than he'd ever moved in his eleven lifetimes.

"Oh. Blimey. That's…"

"Hello," the leather clad man stepped forward and outstretched his hand to Eleven. "I'm The Doctor by the way."

"Yes. Yes, you are." Eleven vigorously shook his hand, beaming from ear to ear. "Oh, this is just fantastic. Absolutely fantastic!"

**Thank you so much for reading once again, please review! :) **


	5. Chapter 5: The Oncoming Storm

**Is it just me or is Nine a really REALLY hard character to write for?! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next (very melodramatic) chapter. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing guys! :)**

**Chapter Five**

**The Oncoming Storm**

Everything was burning.

The Eighth Doctor could do nothing but close his eyes, hear the endless screams and let the winds of a thousand deaths wash over him. His tunic was almost destroyed revealing his upper body, while the weapon in his hand was dropped as though in slow motion. It was over. It was done.

He stood in the Citadel of the Time Lords, locked in the enormous glass dome. The moment had been in his grasp for a second, and he took the chance - Daleks swarmed above and below, their cries echoing around the entire planet as Gallifrey, home of the Time Lords, burned again and again. In the highest tower of the citadel, the centre of the planet, The Doctor, an old, foolish man who had once simply wanted to see the stars, threw the moment into Gallifrey's broken and beaten heart.

It had taken less than a second's hesitation. He knew, there was not one single bone in his body that didn't know the devastation and ruin he was about to cause - but he closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel it. The greater good. A reason to die. The fate of the universe in his hands.

The planet couldn't withstand the paradoxes, and the moment destroyed them all. There were so many dead that shouldn't be, so many living soldiers who had died countless times again and again, and for what purpose? To fight - and die - another day. The entire Time War imploded, and The Doctor, standing on the brink of the citadel, let a small tear fall from his closed eyes.

"I'm sorry, Susan," he whispered.

The ground beneath him crumbled, and he fell. The fire was raging everywhere, Time Lords and Daleks alike falling and burning through space along with the planet itself. The Time War ripped itself apart and Gallifrey burned.

Amidst the screams and echoes of past regenerations of hundreds of dead Time Lords, The Doctor remained composed. He was scared and in pain, oh yes. But he was content. Ready.

Falling through the stars now, as Gallifrey became nothing but a broken puzzle. Bodies and weapons and broken TARDISes floated through the air, with the madmen still screaming, desperately trying to find a way to reverse the Eye of Harmony's implosion, while The Doctor himself caught fire. The phoenix had reached the end of its life.

It happened quicker than he'd ever felt it. The agony was unbearable, the burnt flesh on The Doctor's body rewriting its own DNA, yet still he remained composed. It would not be for long. Up was down and left was right, but The Doctor still raised his arms and fell like an angel losing its wings. The golden glow gave off a dreamlike ecstasy, and he closed his eyes harder and waited for the oblivion. Fitting that this body, the most human of them all, should die so far from home.

The regeneration was starting to take hold, and The Doctor had mere seconds left. The fire burned brighter and fiercer around him, but there were no Time Lords or Daleks anymore. He was alone.

With a deep breath, he raised his head, and the golden light shot out at all angles. He tried so hard, he really did, but in the end he had no choice. The pain was excruciating. He screamed.

And so it was that even on Earth, somewhere hundreds of galaxies away, they witnessed a great surge of light and, as though from nowhere, a shooting star made its way across their atmosphere. The Doctor.

Opening his eyes, he found he was still in free fall but slowing down. He couldn't tell where he was.

Please let it be over, he thought. I don't deserve this.

Out of nowhere, he heard the engines. That whirring sound of home, and without even a second to consider it, he slammed down on hard metal. A ship?

He turned round weakly, every single part of him aching and longing for a release. But there she was. She'd caught him, even amongst all of that destruction.

The TARDIS put on a desperate surge of speed to distance itself from the horrific destruction of its home planet, and The Doctor struggled to regain his footing.

"Where…how…?" The voice that came out of his new body was hoarse and unkind - a growl, like that of a tiger. A wounded animal. Alone in the wilderness.

But he knew there was one more thing he had to do, and it killed him inside knowing that this would be his first act in this incarnation. At the back of his mind, the question of whether or not he was going to carry on at all still lingered, but for now he dashed around the TARDIS console. "Alright then," he mumbled. "If we're going to do it," he said more to the TARDIS than himself. "We'd better do it properly."

He found the co-ordinates for the Time War and fixed the TARDIS on to them - the last TARDIS in existence. No other ship could stop him or interfere. He found its date of origin, the night of the first attack on Skaro - and the TARDIS pulled it out of the time vortex like a fish on a hook. His mind on autopilot, The Doctor then found the final battle in the citadel - the moment where he finally ended the bloodshed. The TARDIS locked on to the time, date and location and pulled it out of the vortex.

"Locked. Unbreachable." The Doctor leaned forward on the console and put his head in his hands while the TARDIS drifted away from the hell that was born on his home planet.

He cried. It must have been at least half an hour he stood there and wept - exhaustion, grief, guilt, they all swept over him one after the other and devoured him. With an almighty scream, he pummelled his fist on to the central console tower, kicking the seats and throwing the clothes and screwdrivers and stupid fob watches all across his ship.

Hours later, he slept. The nightmares crept up on him though, and it was only when he awoke that he realised he was still in his predecessor's clothes. That wouldn't do.

Okay, he thought. Think. Where am I going now? Treading back to the console room, he came across the clothes he'd thrown in his tantrum - amongst which were a leather jacket. His new body was taller than the last, but when he attempted to examine himself in the mirror, the TARDIS jittered.

"Oi! D'you mind?" he shouted angrily as he was nearly thrown off his feet. There was little affection in his voice for his ship - she had saved him where he had hoped to die. "Trying to check out the new threads."

The TARDIS seemingly ignored him, instead choosing to thrash even harder, this time literally bowling The Doctor across the room. "What the bloody hell is up with you? Knock it off!"

The cloister bell rang louder than he'd ever heard it. Flashbacks of the war ran unbidden into his mind, but he closed them off as quickly as he could. "Oh for crying out loud…"

No sooner had he ran up to the main console than the TARDIS gave a huge clang, and sprawling letters appeared on the wall behind The Doctor.

_**BAD WOLF**_  
_**BAD WOLF**_  
_**BAD WOLF **_  
_**BAD WOLF**_

There was an enormous crash and The Doctor felt the TARDIS land unwillingly. With an eerily sudden silence, the ship's interior glowed a horrific blood red.

"Fanastic," The Doctor rolled his eyes sarcastically and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever." Grabbing his sonic screwdriver, the last of the Time Lords decided that he couldn't care less what happened next, but he certainly wasn't going to let it happen with him clueless.

"Right then. Where are we?"

He opened the doors and was met with absolute carnage in front of him. At his feet lay a man in a pinstriped brown suit and sneakers shouting some gibberish at a boy in a tweed suit jacket - who was currently being held up and about to be killed by some beast. How unfortunate.

The Doctor was about to turn away and go back into the TARDIS when the man on the ground suddenly did something incredibly alarming.

He waved a sonic screwdriver. Not just any sonic screwdriver - the exact same one that The Doctor held in his hands at this moment. He raised his eyes incredulously, and then frowned immediately afterwards. Raising his own screwdriver out of pure curiosity, The Doctor pushed the central button at the beast the same way that the man on the ground was attempting to do.

The beast roared and dropped the boy in the bow tie, and The Doctor's curiosity finally got the better of him. If these were Time Lords - which they couldn't possibly be considering what just happened - then he'd have to find an appropriate way to deal with them. Time Lords were dangerous creatures after all.

Stepping forward, he extended a hand to the pinstriped man in front of him.

"Thank you," the man said, and then widened his eyes to the size of dinner plates.

"Don't mention it," The Doctor shrugged. "That should be it buggered off for a while. At least until we all become lovely and dead and it can enjoy eating our corpses in peace from sonic screwdrivers."

"Uh huh…" the man stood up, and The Doctor was becoming very wary of his suspicious nature. Perhaps if he confessed who he was, he would get a straight answer out of this situation and figure out the best way to get out of it. Stepping up to the other occupant with the bow tie, he outstretched his hand.

"I'm The Doctor, by the way," he blatantly blurted out, hoping that the reaction from the younger man would give him a reason to act.

The boy's reaction wasn't quite what he expected, however. He was smiling - really smiling from ear to ear, and grabbing The Doctor's hand a little too enthusiastically for comfort.

"Yes, yes you are!" he exclaimed, beaming. "Oh, this is just fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!"

The Doctor sighed. This guy was either a fan or a lunatic - and he didn't have a great track record with either of those...


	6. Chapter 6: The Three Doctors

**Sorry it's been a few days folks, here's the latest lengthy chapter of "Fear Within The Trenches!" I hope you enjoy, as all three of our Doctors finally meet and discuss their predicament...**

**Chapter Six**

**The Three Doctors**

It was midnight. Outside in the trenches, the soldiers off duty were sleeplessly restless as they randomly played with their trinkets. No Man's Land was a deserted wilderness, occupied only by the soldiers' thoughts of what tomorrow would bring. Following the collapse of the bunker, The Sergeant was being tended to by a doctor in the medical bay.

"Well, it would appear that you've sustained no serious injury, sir," Dr. Jacobs confirmed kindly as The Sergeant rolled down his sleeves and placed his hat firmly on his head. "Although the stories that some of the soldiers have told in here are worrying me slightly. One even went so far as to say that there was a three headed animal attacking them." He chuckled and stroked his white beard, grown from years of service. "War will make madmen of us all."

The Sergeant did not smile, instead standing and saluting Jacobs.

"War is all we know," he replied. "And humanity will not see the end of it. Not today. Not ever."

The grin on Jacobs' face slid down like rain from glass. "Yes…yes, quite right, sir. But," he attempted to reconcile with The Sergeant. "We shall see victory on the Somme tomorrow! Led of course by our great captains such as yourself."

A flicker of a smirk threatened to disrupt The Sergeant's features, but he stood resolute. "Oh, yes. I shall see victory indeed." Without another word, he marched from the bunker leaving Jacobs standing alone with naught but a cold chill washing over him.

The full moon shone down upon the trenches, but Nine, Ten and Eleven had no inkling of its light. Inside their dark, dusty bunker, they only had each other for company with no means of escape - and Nine was not taking his new predicament well at all.

"So this is it then, eh? I come out of a bloody great war just to get thrown into another one. And my TARDIS has decided to stop working. Fantastic."

"Look," Ten sat opposite him at the table. The three sonic screwdrivers were sat in the centre whirring away like a surprisingly effective candle. "We are in this together. One way or another, we must get out of this - or me and this clown wouldn't be here."

"How do I even know you are who you say you are?" Nine persisted, as Eleven gave Ten a gawping, insulted look while mouthing "Clown?"

Ten sighed. "I understand your suspicions. Trust me, I do. And I'm sorry for what you've just been through. But I promise-" he placed a gentle hand on Nine's rough shoulder and smiled. "It gets better. I promise it does."

Nine furrowed his brow. "That still doesn't answer my question, and if it's alright with you I'd rather not discuss my little wartime stint in Gone-iffrey."

Ten looked at Eleven for support. "Aren't you going to help me out here? Don't you even remember this happening…?"

Eleven clucked his tongue and closed his eyes. "I don't know. It's weird. It's like…" He put his hands to his forehead. "It's like a train powering forward at full speed even when the tracks are just being laid in front of it as it goes. New memories are throwing themselves into my mind as everything…happens…" His voice grew faint. "It's getting very difficult to concentrate on it. It's all so cloudy."

"That thing," Nine interrupted. "The thing that attacked you. What was it? Definitely wasn't from this stupid planet," - Ten looked offended - "And what the hell is it doing on 20th Century Earth?"

"I have no idea," said Eleven, leaning forward. "But…we can work it out. Together. We might even be able to save it - for all we know it could be scared. Alone. Afraid. Ready to lash out at anything and anyone it sees."

A beam of understanding flashed between them, yet still Nine refused to smile. "If it's murdering innocent people," he muttered angrily. "Then it deserves to die." Ten's rage threatened to burst through to his surface.

"I think you've made enough such judgment today," he said through gritted teeth. "Don't you? There are soldiers out there. Boys. Men. Men who will die unless we help them by helping that creature."

"Even if we save them tonight, they're going to die at sunrise anyway," Eleven said solemnly. With his eyebrows raised in an earnest expression, he caught Ten's eyes. "This is a fixed point in time. We can't tamper with it." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "The timeline will either correct itself in the harshest way possible - and it will not be merciful - or all of history will happen at once. I've seen what can happen when a fixed point is ignored."

For the moment, Nine's sadness gave way to curiosity. "What d'you mean?" he whispered. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Eleven defended himself. "It was…urgh, never mind. You'll see. Anyway!" he clapped his hands together. "You wanted proof. Proof that we are you."

"The first time you met R-" he began, but Ten threw a finger on to his lips.

"Uhh, what he means to say is that revealing that sort of information would be giving far too much away!" he gave Eleven a very knowing look. "Just, trust us. We're The Doctor." He beamed from ear to ear. "Blimey, I've always wanted to say that!"

Nine sighed. It seemed he had no choice.

"Fine, but as soon as my TARDIS is working again I'm off. I've got better things to do than hang around with some boy band reject and a children's entertainer."

Eleven grinned and adjusted his bow tie. "I should think so, although I resent your description! You've got some fantastic days ahead of you!" Nine stared at him blanky, and Eleven looked crestfallen. Ten raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? Is it too much to want to be responsible for my own catchphrase?"

"What I want to know," said Ten, leaning backwards and placing his hands behind his head in thought, "Is why we're all right here, right now. All three of our TARDISes decided to land here. It just doesn't make sense…"

"A TARDIS can't communicate with itself in its own timeline," Nine contributed, folding his arms and staring at the three screwdrivers. "The paradox itself would either rip the life force out of the TARDIS, or it would be forced out of the time vortex. Now, seeing as we're all alive, well and apparently not mutilated or dead, I'd say we're still in the vortex.

"Not only that," interjected Eleven. "But we've been thrown into one of the most important dates in planet Earth's history. A primitive time, yes, but a date that humanity will remember for the rest of its days, from now until they become balls of gas and downloads and try to head off to Utopia and whatnot…"

"So," Nine continued, giving Eleven a glare that screamed 'shut up.' "Our TARDISes are still alive but for some reason all their power has been drained and we're stranded."

"My TARDIS has been hijacked before," Eleven replied. "Someone tried to blow it up. _Tried_ being the primary word there," he smirked and adjusted his bow tie proudly.

Ten reached into his pocket and pulled out his glasses, placing them firmly on the end of his nose. Eleven smirked.

"…don't even need them…" he muttered to himself. Ten pretended not to hear him.

"Perhaps…" he leaned forward, evoking a sense of mystery. "Perhaps…someone wants us here. Three versions of the same person. Do they need our help? Is it a trap? A convenient assassination. And, in the middle of a war, who's to know who did it? And for what purpose?"

Eleven smiled, still bemused by Ten's glasses. "No…no! Who would do a thing like that?" Nine raised his eyebrows.

"I can list about twenty off the top of my head right now." Eleven's smile faded awkwardly.

"Fair enough…still! At least we've got each other, eh? The three musketeers! All for one and one for all! And all is one in this case…and one is all…and…well…"

Nine rolled his eyes and grabbed his sonic screwdriver "Well, the first one thing we've got to do is get out of this stinking bunker. The silence is making my ears go deaf."

"Your ears?" Eleven grinned. "Not those enormous Elephant-y things?" Nine slapped a hand to the side of his head and felt around.

"Shurrup," he said, offended, before pointing his sonic at the rubble blocking the exit to the bunker. "If two screwdrivers can tick off an enormous beast then three might be able to shift all this." Ten nodded his head in agreement and joined Nine.

"Change the setting to -"

"I know what to change it to, cheers," Nine cut him off. Eleven, smiling like a madman, picked up his screwdriver.

"No, you need to -"

"Are you gonna stop telling me what I need to do?"

Eleven cleared his throat and the whirring noise stopped. "Gentlemen," he beamed, flicking the settings on his screwdriver. Nine stared at it, reluctantly impressed. "Watch the master at work."

With a few shuffles of the functions, Eleven soon found a way to gravitate the rocks from the door, finally revealing the moonlit trenches and the soldiers on the other side. Ten stared at him, his expression a mixture of anger and bemusement.

"You know you could have done that the whole time we've been sitting there?" he said, following Eleven into the night.

"I know," Eleven laughed. "But it was just so much fun chill-axing with you two, how could I possibly pass up an opportunity like that?" Rubbing his hands together and grinning gleefully, he proceeded down the dirt-ridden pathways, Nine and Ten in his wake. "Now then, I'd - or we'd - like a word with The Sergeant!"

**Again, thank you so much for reading and if you'd like to leave a review I'd really appreciate it! =)**


	7. Chapter 7: The Conflict of a Time Lord

**Hello again, here's Chapter Seven of Fear Within The Trenches! I hope you enjoy, I'm trying to get in tune with how to write the characters but I think dialogue is my weakest point. Anyway, please read and review if you like, and review even more so if you don't! =P Although I think I did pretty well to get a Brookside reference in a Doctor Who story...**

**Chapter Seven**

**The Conflict of a Time Lord**

Fixed points in time were a problem for any Time Lord, but for none more so than The Doctor. His Tenth incarnation's mind was racing as he and his past and future counterparts made their way through the filthy, hopeless trenches which tomorrow would serve as a graveyard for the soldiers he was passing by.

He could hear them whispering, curious as to who these three unlikely allies were inside their own territory. His converses covered in muck and his hair slowly flattening due to the mild rain, Ten slipped his hand into his pockets, deep in thought. Eleven's words ran through his head again.

_"Even if we save them tonight, they're going to die at sunrise anyway."_

He knew that the future Doctor was right. He should have known by now that disobeying fixed points in time could only cause one of two things: a snap in the timeline, in which the past, present and future force themselves back into place violently, regardless of any casualties, no matter the cost; or it unravels like a ball of string, panicking and throwing the most important points in history into a big, confusing bundle. It freezes, like a computer struggling to keep up with itself.

The conflict inside his head raged. These people, these men with families and children and houses and mothers and fathers - all of them would needlessly be dead tomorrow. And yet, the possibility of what could happen if they didn't might be even more consequential not just for those involved but for the entire universe.

Just this once, couldn't he just get what he wanted? On the whole journey from Mars to Earth in the TARDIS with the remaining crew, his thoughts had turned to Rose Tyler. He could go back. He could go back to Torchwood on that day in 2006, he could stop the entire battle from happening. And Rose would never leave him. Never.

Ten shook his head softly as he passed a small young man scribbling a letter to a loved one with tears in his eyes. He knew that time was sentient, but he didn't realise it could be so cruel. He let Nine walk on ahead of him and stooped down to speak to the soldier.

"Hello," he smiled. "What's your name? I'm The Doctor."

The boy removed his helmet and wiped his eyes nervously.

"Private Carson, sir," he saluted. The accent was easily identifiable.

"Are you from Liverpool, Private Carson?" Ten grinned. Carson nodded silently. "Ah, I love Liverpool! All you scousers watching Brookside, eating your fish 'n' chips!" Carson looked blank.

"Watching what, sir?" Ten's smile faded and he cleared his throat.

"Er, nothing, nothing. Who are you writing to?"

"My mother, sir. She broke her hip last month but I can't go home to see her. They won't let me. The Sergeant won't even try. He says we're all essential for his plan." Carson sighed. "I'm her only child. She's worried sick."

"Then what brought you out here in the first place, Private Carson? Conscript? Another family member perhaps?" Ten nodded in encouragement. Carson shrugged.

"It all looked so magnificent on the posters," he mumbled. "Fighting for glory, saving our country. But…" he lowered his head. "I guess they lied." Lifting his hands, he tried to shake the mud off them. "Tomorrow, they want us to face down the Germans properly. They say we're going to beat them. Wipe them out once and for all."

Ten did nothing. Suddenly he wished he'd never started this conversation. Instead, he clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder and smiled.

"Good luck. Can I ask you your first name?"

"What does it matter?"

"I just want to know."

"Gregory. Named after my grandfather."

"Good luck, Gregory," Ten smiled widely. "It was lovely to meet you. Really. A pleasure." He shook Gregory's hand hard, his eyes full of fake hope for a boy who needed it.

"Th - thank you, sir. Glad to make your acquaintance too, sir."

Standing up, his bottom lip trembling, Ten placed his hands pack into his pockets and bowed his head, catching up with Nine and Eleven. Tomorrow, Gregory was going to die brutally and painfully, assuming this apparent monster roaming the trenches didn't kill him first.

Eleven was right - they needed to have a word with The Sergeant.

Nine and Eleven themselves were slowly making their way towards The Sergeant's bunker under the moonlight. The torches on the walls were slowly fading out, and Eleven was finding it hard to converse with his Ninth incarnation.

"So…"

"Look," Nine was cutting him off in his rough Northern accent. "I just want to get my TARDIS working and get out of here. Whatever happens between the other two of you…me…whatever, I don't care."

Eleven, still walking swiftly, grew more solemn.

"I understand. Trust me, I do -"

"Don't tell me to trust you," Nine interjected again. "I don't want anything to do with this. As far as I'm concerned, you're just another stupid ape ready to get in my way. I'm done saving this planet, and I'm done risking my own skin for it. Why should I?"

Eleven smiled sadly, and looked up at Nine. They stopped walking and, just for a second, the moonlight exposed them like a streetlamp.

"Because someone on this planet is going to save you," he smiled. "It's like I said back there in the bunker. It gets better. I promise." His smile widened wistfully. "And I was so proud of you. Of me when I was you, I mean. Everything you did, you did it for her."

Nine opened his mouth in confusion for a flicker of a moment, but before the conversation could go any further, footsteps echoed behind them.

"Sorry," Ten mumbled. "Got a little sidetracked. C'mon, let's go. We need to have a word with The Sergeant."

Eleven raised a finger and followed in his wake. "I already said that - didn't I already say that?" he implored to Nine, who did little more than shrug.

The three Doctors approached The Sergeant's bunker. Two soldiers stood guard outside it, but when they saw the Time Lord approach, they lowered the guard.

"He said you'd be coming," said the taller man on the right, before turning and knocking on the flimsy door three times. Ten sighed.

"Getting sick of hearing three knocks."

"Yes?" came the gruff voice of The Sergeant inside.

"It's Mr. Smith, sir, and the other gentleman with the screwdriver, sir. And there's another man with -"

"Just let them in."

Eleven barged in front, stepping into The Sergeant's bunker.

"Well, hello there Mr. Sergeant man!" he said, grinning as the very dodgy makeshift door slammed shut behind them. "I must say it's a privilege to meet a soldier whose bunker has a door. How very up market."

The Sergeant was sitting at a desk, poring over maps and letters. "Hello, Mr. Smith. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Eleven's eyes darted to the gun in The Sergeant's hand.

"Oh, just fancied a chat," he replied. "Figured we could have a little chin wag, although I suppose in my case it would be more of a chin wobble!"

"Mr. Smith, I don't have time for -"

"Of course you have time," Ten cut in. "It's not like you'll be busy for long tomorrow. What's the point?"

Silence fell within the bunker, and Eleven turned round to glare at Ten. The Sergeant, still with his back to the trio, stood up straight.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," Nine replied, " nothing. He's talking nonsense. Don't mind him."

The Sergeant spun round at this new voice. "Ah, and who do we have here? Yet another stranger in our encampment." Nine gave an exaggerated smile.

"Hello, yes, it's me! The stranger! I came for the banter but I stayed for the bullets."

"And you are?"

"The Doctor."

"The Doctor?"

"Is there an echo in here? Yes, The Doctor."

"Interesting…" said The Sergeant, a dark grin creeping across his lips. The hair on the back of Ten's head stood on end, but he powered through.

"We need to know what you know about the beast," he said. "Anything you can tell us about how to stop it."

"Stop it?" The Sergeant half-laughed. "Why would you want to do that? If we're all as doomed as you say, why bother?"

"Because each and every one of your men will be killed if we don't do something," said Eleven. "That creature injured you, it nearly killed me. Anything you know will be…" he trailed off, his voice growing quieter. "Welcome to World War I."

"What?" Ten squinted and scratched his head, staring at Eleven.

"That's what you said to me," Eleven ignored him and stared at The Sergeant, whose face was impassive. "When I landed here last night."

Eleven stepped forward, and Nine unfolded his arms. "Impossible," he whispered. "But that…how…"

"It was known as The Great War," said Ten, realization hitting him. "Of course nobody knew there was going to be a Second, then a Third, then a Fourth. Not World War I. How could you possibly…why would…"

The Sergeant's lips grew into a cold, dark smile. "I'm surprised it took you this long, Doctor," he whispered. "Or should I say Doctors? Oh, three of you. Three! I could never have hoped for such an outcome."

"How do you know that there will be another war?" Eleven, his face full of fury and confusion, strolled towards The Sergeant and looked him dead in the eyes. The Sergeant was laughing now. "Who are you? What are you? And why are you here?"

"Oh Doctor, you know me as much as I know you! So many lives, so many names! The killer of his own kind," he glared at Nine; "The destroyer of worlds," his eyes met Eleven's; "The Time Lord victorious." Clocking on to Ten, his grin reached his ears and he opened his arms wide.

"The Valeyard."

**Ooh! Getting a bit deep on Who mythology now but I hope you all still enjoy :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi folks, here's Chapter Eight! What's The Valeyard really up to? And why is he here? Let's find out - the plot thickens...**

**Chapter Eight**

**A Problem Shared**

"But that's impossible," Eleven slowly and carefully approached The Sergeant, frowning with every ounce of his being. "You were defeated. On Gallifrey, at my trial. All those years ago. "

"The what?" exclaimed Nine, confused. "The Valeyard?"

"Don't you remember?" said Ten, staring at his previous incarnation, screwdriver hanging loosely in his hand. "The Valeyard attempted to prosecute us in our sixth incarnation. The High Council of Time Lords were corrupted, and he," he nodded at The Sergeant, who was still grinning maliciously, "wanted to show us in a horrific light so that they would imprison us."

"You wanted to steal our future regenerations for yourself," Eleven whispered, his voice growing colder with rage. "But you were destroyed. I defeated you."

The Valeyard laughed, an ice cold laugh that sent shivers down the Doctors' spines. "Yet again your arrogance knows no bounds, Doctor." He spat the last word, lowering his arms. "You think yourself invincible, free from the laws of the Time Lords and your own future!"

"The Time Lords are dead," said Ten angrily. "There's nobody to trial us. Nobody to impose any sort of rule."

"And that's just it, isn't it Doctor?" The Valeyard pointed a long, accusing finger at Ten. "The Time Lord Victorious. Given your way, you would -"

"Oh, shut up," Nine cut him off and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I remember you. You tried to make us look like a naughty boy so that the Time Lords would condemn us, blah blah blah. I honestly could not care less, so if it's all the same with you, why don't you just hop along back where you came from and leave us alone, eh?"

"Oh, we're past the point of leaving now, Doctor," The Valeyard grinned. "All I have to do is wait. I am _you_, after all."

"Wait?" Eleven was enraged. Watching his previous incarnations sparring with The Valeyard was frustrating enough, and he was choosing his words carefully. "All we want to do is help who we can, and leave in peace. And you -" He pointed at The Valeyard angrily - "are doing nothing to help anyone."

"What do you mean you are me?" Nine unfolded his arms and stared. "You were destroyed. The Time Lords should have banished you. My future will never be - be you!"

Ten sighed and explained. "Y'know I liked being you but you aren't half slow sometimes!" Nine opened his mouth to retort, but Ten intercepted. "On Gallifrey, The Master told us that The Valeyard is what we become at some point in our future. Somewhere between our twelfth and thirteenth incarnation." He cleared his throat and struggled to meet Nine's eyes. "The Master called him an 'amalgamation of the darker side of The Doctor's nature.'"

"So what the bloody hell is he doing here?" Nine exclaimed, frustrated. Eleven turned round, furious.

"Would you two shut up? I can't believe I used to be so - so - thick!" He took a step back from the grinning Valeyard and rubbed his hands together nervously. "He's here to get more evidence."

"What evidence?" Ten raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Time is in flux right now, the whole universe is in danger," Eleven replied. "When you arrived, I asked you if…"

"…if the Time Vortex was ripping apart…" Ten finished for him. "Yes…"

"It was…him." Eleven looked at The Valeyard. "He's altering time…"

The Valeyard laughed. "Well, I'd love to stay and have a chat with you fine Doctors about my plan and you can all figure out a way to stop me, but I'm afraid I still have a little make believe war to fight." He put his hat back on his head and slipped his pistol back in to its holder. "Until next time."

Eleven stepped in front of him to halt his steps, but The Valeyard simply grinned. "Nice try." He rolled back his sleeve to reveal a vortex manipulator.

"But that's…that's…" Ten started forwards and examined the wrist strap in a panic. "That's impossible!"

Without another word, The Valeyard was gone in a beam of blue light, and The Doctors stood in silence with nothing but the candles to shed any light on their situation.

"So then," said Nine after a long pause. "Here we are. Three of me, stuck in World War I with some kind of creature ready to rip us to shreds and an evil future version of us trying to make us look even worse! Fantastic! And in the morning, we're off to take part in a glorious massacre!" He threw his arms in the air and left the bunker in a rage, Ten and Eleven staring awkwardly at each other.

"I think -" started Ten, but Eleven broke his sentence.

"You just stay quiet," he said angrily. "Nothing you can say can make this situation any better for any of us."

He stormed out of the bunker in Nine's wake. "Stop!" shouted Ten, stirring several soldiers around them. "We need to stay together, we need to find The Valeyard!"

"I'm sure he'll turn up somewhere!" Eleven replied through the darkness.

Nine could barely hear his counterparts, and he wandered aimlessly through the trenches, ignoring the soldiers staring at him. His head bowed low and his jacket rustling with his movements, the mind inside his Time Lord head was racing. These two other Doctors, if that was even what they were, had caused him to get dragged here against his will, fresh out of a war zone. All he wanted to do was find the TARDIS and leave, but no. Some stupid paradox had thrown it out of the loop and it was only a matter of time before he was either forced to take part in this war or the beast inside the trenches caught him.

"Fantastic," he groaned again to nobody but himself. He missed having someone by his side. Grace was fun for a while, but he had left her no sooner than he had met her, and besides nobody would even recognise him in this new body. Even if it just meant somebody to speak to, to bounce his thoughts off, he needed someone. Anybody. And one of his other selves just wouldn't do.

His train of thought soon came to an end when he hit a dead end in the trench. In fact, he had kept his head bowed so low that he had completely lost track of where he had come from. Turning to retrace his steps, he tripped over something on the ground.

"What the -"

In a nonplussed moment of annoyance, he kicked the ground on which he had tripped - but it was only when he examined it further that he noticed a strange spike protruding from underneath the surface. He bent down, removing his sonic screwdriver as he did so.

"But that…that's just…oh no…"

Outstretching his hands to retrieve the mysterious object, Nine heard a shuffling behind him. Sharply turning his head, his eyes saw nothing.

"Oi! Whoever that is, knock it off. I'm doing some very clever work here, so unless you're coming to admire it, get lost!"

He turned back to stare at the spike, but it was gone - instead replaced by a horrific skull.

"Oh…"

The shuffling noise crept louder behind him and Nine stood sharply, holding up his sonic screwdriver. His hearts started beating a little faster - he'd almost begun to forgotten the feeling of fear.

"Who's there? Come out and show yourself!"

A howl pierced the air, and Nine gave a sudden cry as an enormous claw threw itself into his line of sight; he felt a slash across his chest and, as he fell to his knees, he weakly acknowledged the warmth of blood on his fingers.

Before he could say or do anything, darkness clouded his senses.

**Uh oh! Hope you enjoyed that folks, I really appreciate you reading and reviewing =] Apologies for a lot of dialogue and exposition, but I'm not a fan of stories that just have action scene after action scene without any character building. Plus I felt the need to explain The Valeyard, just for memory's sake. **

**Thank you! =]**


	9. Chapter 9: A Stitch In Time Saves Nine

**Here's chapter Nine :) Thank you all for reading and reviewing so far everyone, it would seem I've somehow gathered quite a lot of followers! **

**Chapter Nine**  
**A Stitch In Time Saves Nine**

The Eleventh Doctor sat on a very flimsy makeshift stool and stared up at the night sky with his chin in his hands. This was a disaster. He used to enjoy meeting previous versions of himself, despite the particularly dangerous damage the whole situation could do to the continuity of the Time Vortex. His mind drifted back to the time his Sixth incarnation had rescued his Second from an aggressive bunch of Sontarans and a smile reached his lips, but he soon snapped out of it.

"No time for nostalgia. C'mon, think. What to do."

He racked his brains. The Valeyard was here in World War I - was he here purely by coincidence?

"No," he shook his head, speaking aloud to himself. "He must have forced us here. Somehow."

His sonic screwdriver in hand, Eleven glanced up at the sky and saw a star twinkling at him. He smiled sadly.

"What do you think, Amy? Rory?"  
No reply met his ears, of course, but he imagined so anyway. He imagined Amy's trademark sass ("Figure it out, chin boy. I remember when you used to be clever!") and Rory's signature panic ("Oh, great. I love it when a future you tries to attack us, yeah. That's brilliant. Good-o!") and felt a little better. More confident. He thought back to some of his last words with Amy.

"I'm not running from things, Amy. I'm running to them, before they fade away from me forever."

Like it or not, he couldn't run anywhere this time. He pointed his screwdriver at his own face and scanned randomly.

"Surprised it doesn't say 'bumbling idiot,'" he said. Slapping himself hard on the cheek, he brought discipline back to his thoughts. "Think! C'mon! Daleks with Churchhill, rebooting the universe, faking your own death, dinosaurs on a spaceship - and you can't even figure this one out! What does he want?"

He needed to find his other incarnations. Lack of a companion was driving him insane, and he needed a sound board, someone to give him that extra kick of common sense when he needed it.

"He's here to get evidence. But why? What possible evidence could he get from us in the middle of World Wa -"

Eleven stopped mid-sentence, and his train of thought finally reached its destination.

"Evidence. For the prosecution. Oh Doctor, you are so thick! Mr Thick Thickety Thick from Thick Town!"

He stood up rapidly, making himself dizzy, but ran onwards shouting after Ten.

"Doctor! Doctor, where are you? I've figured out what The Valeyard wants with us!" He tore through the trenches, ignoring the curious glances from the soldiers - shouldn't they be asleep? - attempting to find either of his previous incarnations.

"Doctor!"

Eleven sprinted, letting his screwdriver light the way for him. "Where the hell are you, you're worse than that lot most of the time. Don't wander off, rule one, don't -"

He rounded a final corner and the sight that met his eyes was horrific. "Oh no no no!"

His Ninth incarnation was flat on the ground, unmoving, and on a precipice above him - there stood the beast.

The creature was truly a horrible sight to behold. If Eleven had to guess, he'd say that the origins of its inception came from the werewolves of the very - very - olden days, but it was worse than that. Its body was that of a man, chest heaving with desire to devour its prey, and its claws were larger than those of any beast he'd ever seen in his life. The head was still that of a wolf, but its teeth were enormous and ferocious, and the growl emitting from its jaws was louder than the motor of the TARDIS. The yellow teeth inside were soaked with blood - Eleven could still see the tangled remains of a human intestine wound around its molars. In any other situation, he'd call this new creature fascinating, but this was no time for glorifying a being that was about to destroy his past body and - by extension - himself.

The beast was lowering itself in to the trench, circling Nine and snapping its jaws. It hadn't noticed Eleven, but its filthy, doggish ears were pricking up. Raising an enormous claw, it made to strike Nine's neck, but Eleven intervened.

"Oi! Big foot!" Raising his sonic screwdriver, he made it emit an eery whining noise. "Pick on someone your own size!"

The beast moaned and put a huge, mangled claw over its own ears, turning to stare at Eleven. Standing on its hind legs, it slowly made a crooked and pained stride forwards in his direction.

Eleven was conflicted - if he took the beast away from Nine, he'd be putting the soldiers in danger, but if he let it stay with Nine, his past two incarnations (and himself) would be killed immediately and his life would be rewritten. Everything he'd done to save the universe would be undone.

No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than the beast had regained its confidence and was on all fours, leaping towards him.

"Uhh…uhh….run!" Eleven shouted at himself. With his sonic screwdriver still whirring away to the loudest of its abilities, he ran as fast as he could down the trench, the bounding, racing footsteps of the beast right behind him. Was this it? Well, he wasn't going to go down so easily.

"C'mon big boy, this way!" he roared, leading the beast down a small lane. Perhaps if he could get it stuck he could find a way to trap it. He squeezed his way down the alley of dirt, breathing in as much as he could but still struggling to fit through the gap.

"COME ON!" he shouted at himself, as the beast rounded the corner and pounded towards Eleven. He closed his eyes, waiting for the fatal blow, still struggling to squeeze through the gap. He saw a button fly off his undershirt, and his bow tie was practically in his mouth, but still he tried to fit through - he could see the light of candles on the other side.

He felt the breath of the beast at his ear and squinted, his two hearts pounding faster than he'd ever felt them. It was right in front of him, snarling and growling, its yellow teeth moist and ready for his flesh. There was nothing he could do but wait. He wished that this creature would just get it over with.

But the claw never reached him. There was an almighty bang, the unmistakeable sound of gun fire. The beast howled and cried, the sound deafening to Eleven's ears, and he opened his eyes. It was retreating from him, and through the gaps in its arms he could see it bounding towards a group of soldiers - led by Ten.

"Focus on its body!" he was shouting, pointing his screwdriver at the beast's flesh. "It's weakest in the torso!" The soldiers followed his command, and the creature howled and screamed as the bullets mashed against its body.

"No, don't kill it!" Eleven shouted at them, but they couldn't hear him over the gun fire. The creature was becoming desperate, thrashing around the dirty alley in a desperate attempt to free itself - and it worked.

Before Eleven could even contemplate what had happened, the creature was on top of the soldiers, and in a split second it had thrashed its claws inside a man's stomach. His innards were flying through the air, and just as Eleven freed himself from the filthy, narrow passage, the beast was bounding across the trench, running as fast it could from the soldiers and their bullets.

Ten lowered his screwdriver and nodded at Eleven. Eleven glared at him, ready to either hit him or burst into tears.

"If you're expecting me to thank you," he said, rage bursting through his gritted teeth. "You'll be waiting for a very long time." Ten shrugged.

"Well, I'm sorry for saving your life then," he said calmly, nodding at the soldiers. "You can at least thank this lot. They saw you running from something and shouted for me."

"Well," said Eleven softly, his anger ebbing. "Thank you." The soldiers did not reply, instead staring at the boy on the ground, who was desperately clinging to his stomach attempting to stop the flow of blood.

"Oh, no…" said Ten, dropping to his knees and holding the boy's head in his hands. "Gregory, stay with me," he said, panic dripping in to his voice. "Gregory, can you hear me?"

Private Carson's eyes were growing dark, but before they lost their light completely, he turned to stare at The Doctor.

"Doctor…" he whispered, blood trickling from his lips. "Doctor, I think…I think I'm…"

He struggled to breathe for a moment, and Ten shushed him.

"Gregory, it's fine. Just relax. I promise you're going to be fine." He turned to the soldiers angrily. "Get a medic! Don't just stand there!" He looked to Eleven, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "Please. If he dies, it's my fault," he whispered. Eleven kneeled down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "There's nothing we can do. Just look at him."

Ten glanced down at Private Carson's mangled body - his legs were barely hanging on, and the innards of his stomach were strewn across the filthy floor. He bowed his head, tears now dripping from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly to Private Carson. "I am so, so sorry."

Private Carson used his remaining effort to shake his head.

"Don't blame…yourself…" he muttered, coughing and spluttering. "It was nice to meet you, Doc…tor…" He took one last ragged breath and his eyes closed forever.

Eleven bowed his head and scanned Private Carson's body with his screwdriver.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled to Ten. "He's dead." Removing his hand from Ten's shoulders, he walked away slowly, but Ten did not move for a very long time.


	10. Chapter 10: A Meeting of the Minds

**Sorry it's been a while, here's Chapter Ten! =] I feel like I set the bar high earlier. I know where the plot is going, but figuring out how to get there is proving to be quite tricky =P Anyway, please enjoy and review!**

**Chapter Ten**  
**A Meeting of the Minds**

"Fantastic…"

Nine felt the blood on his finger tips as he slowly rose to his feet, swaying as he did so. His mind was cloudy, but the last thing he remembered was seeing a great claw in front of him. He picked up his sonic screwdriver, which had landed a few feet in front of him, and scanned the area in front of him. Stooping down, he glanced at the tracks.

"Bloody big paw print," he mumbled to himself, staring at an enormous patch of ground on which the beast had pounded. His screwdriver whirred softly as he examined further. "What on Earth are you?"

An hour ago, all he wanted to do was step back into his TARDIS and get as far away from here as possible, but now his curiosity was gnawing at him. At least, that's what he assumed - part of him felt the need to take revenge on the wild animal that had tried to cut him up like steak for dinner.

"First thing's first," he muttered, dragging his leather jacket over his shoulders once more. He might have hated himself, but he was still The Doctor, and The Doctor looked good when he was saving the world.

Before he even took another step forward, the sound of gunfire echoed throughout the trenches. Ignoring the eponymous flashbacks to the war he'd just left, Nine shook his head and ran forward at full speed. He followed the sound of gun fire, noting the roaring sound in between - clearly the beast had encountered some less than friendly soldiers.

He paced around another corner, but as soon as the fighting had started, it had seemingly stopped. Suddenly there was complete silence, although Nine was still pointing his screwdriver in front of him. He searched for life signs, and it pointed him West.

Before long, he heard voices and at the end of a final corner, he saw his two previous incarnations surrounded by soldiers.

"…just look at him." Eleven was saying. Nine followed their gaze and noticed Ten cradling a boy in his arms. He grimaced as he noticed the blood, and stifled a cough. Ten was crying.

Moments passed but they felt like hours, and eventually Eleven walked away slowly. Nine watched Ten cradling the boy in his arms and wondered how a Time Lord could ever have become so emotional. Was this what he was to become? A gibbering wreck reduced to caring so much about a race that were just as stupid as they were violent?

"Oh, get over it," he announced himself roughly to both the Tenth Doctor and the soldiers who quickly raised their guns at him. Nine raised his hands, keeping his eyes fixed on Ten's. "He was just a boy. Probably going to die tomorrow anyway. The amount of deaths you've seen, and you're lying there in the dirt crying over an insignificant ape. Don't you remember what happens in war?"

Ten did not reply, instead lowering Gregory's body on to the ground slowly. He took one look at Nine and quietly he whispered. "All too well."

Nine lowered his hands and just for a moment, he felt remorse. The feeling was gone as soon as it had arrived though, and he swiftly followed Eleven's footsteps.

Those footsteps were slowly coming to a halt, as the Eleventh Doctor turned and faced his Ninth counterpart.

"Leave him be," he said softly. Nine shrugged.

"Fine. Doesn't matter anyway, what I want to know is what the hell attacked me." Looking down at his blood-stained jacket, he sighed.

"It's definitely not of this Earth," muttered Eleven, arms folded and bow tie askew. "How the hell it found its way into the trenches of the First World War is beyond me, but if we can, we can help it find a way home." Nine raised his eyebrows and stood with flat feet, towering over his future incarnation.

"Y'what? You want to bloody help it?" He laughed in disbelief. "It ruined my shirt, I'll have you know!" Eleven let a sad smile escape his lips.

"I knew you'd say that," he swayed gently. "Look, it's alone. Friendless. Maybe even dying. Whatever it is, it's landed in the wrong part of time and space. It's terrified." He hesitated. "Just like you."

Nine unfolded his arms, glaring at Eleven.

"I am not the same as that thing."

"But it's time for us to see each other for who we really are. We have to accept what has happened to us, and what we have done. And we can help each other." He extended his hand to Nine. "Please. I can't do this without you. We were all thrown together for a reason, whether for good or bad."

Nine hesitated, apprehensively staring at Eleven's outstretched palm. "I just want to go back to the TARDIS," he mumbled. Eleven nodded.

"I know. But you won't be able to unless you help us." He smiled warmly and wiggled his fingers. "C'mon then!"

Nine rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Fine!" He took Eleven's hand in his own and shook it firmly. "We still need to get that one -" he thrust his head in Ten's direction, "- to stop blubbing and give us a hand too." Eleven bowed his head.

"Be gentle on him. He's been through a lot."

"Great. Can't wait to experience all that." Nine rolled his eyes and folded his arms, watching as Ten slowly approached them with his eyes covered. Eleven smiled at him.

"Come on, then.' he nudged Ten's shoulders firmly. "We can do it, eh?" Ten didn't reply, instead just nodding half-heartedly. "Right then," Eleven rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I'm sorry to say, gentlemen, that we have a winner, and I think you'll find that that winner is me!"

Nine and Ten glanced at each other and shrugged, nonplussed. "What you on about now?"

"I've figured out what The Valeyard wants with us. With all of us. This is no mere coincidence, all three of us - of me - being here at once. Now," he closed his hands and pointed them at Nine, "You have just been thrown out of the biggest Time War that the universe has ever seen, and it's safe to say you're a little bit…er, well…" Eleven bobbed from side to side to find the right adjective. "A little bit…annoyed?"

Nine raised his eyebrows. "I can think of a more colourful way to put it but yes, I'm quite annoyed." Eleven nodded and continued, nodding at Ten.

"Now, you," he said softly. "We both know where you've just got off. Mars. A tragic event in time that you desperately wanted to change." They clocked eyes and Ten nodded again. "I'll go no further, but I know how you felt. Angry. Upset. Willing to take drastic action." His lips closed solemnly. "Alone."

Still Ten said nothing, his spiky hair bristling in a small breeze. Eleven stepped back and looked at both of them.

"As for myself, well…I've just lost a pair of very dear friends, and of course I'm more than a little upset -"

"Are you going to get to the point any time soon or are we going to be standing here until the morning?" Nine said, agitated. "It's depressing me having to listen to how bloody miserable I'm gonna be." Eleven smiled sadly.

"Yes, yes…you're right, yes. The point is," he licked his finger and held it in the air. "Ah, I've got it! The point is, that The Valeyard has _brought us out of our timelines when we felt most vulnerable._"

Nine's arms unfolded and he took a step forward, and Ten's brow furrowed. "You mean to say -" he began.

"I mean to say, he wants us to be angry. He wants us to fight. He wants us to get upset at this particular event in history, and he wants us to change it."

"But why?"

"Evidence," Eleven held his arms wide and grinned, but his audience weren't so ready to cheer. "Applause? Congratulations? Well done, Doctor?" His smile faded comically. "A jammie dodger?"

Ten suddenly burst into action.

"Of course! The Valeyard tried to prosecute us and have us tarnished in the eyes of the Time Lords - he's broken free of the trial and he's travelled in time to make sure that we alter events - the most punishable crime in the laws of time." He ran his hands through his air, a wild light in his eyes - he was alive again, rejuvenated, like a fire with a fresh spark. "He's chosen to grab us out of our lives at our worst moments because - obviously - we're most likely to do stupid stuff. Or, well, you are, I'm not." He smiled widely.

"Keep telling yourself that," Eleven pointed at Nine, "Fresh out of battle and desperate to avoid another one," he pointed at Ten, "The time lord victorious - 'nuff said," he pointed at himself, "Er, upset, about stuff" he shrugged. "We have to make sure that we don't interfere with events, or The Valeyard will be able to gather more evidence to make us look even worse at that trial." He clapped his hands together madly. "Now then - what we need to do next is find out how he did it, and how we can stop him. Plan H: we find The Valeyard. Let's go! Feel free to say that other thing as well." Ten grinned and looked at Nine, who gave him a huge smile.

"Fantastic!"

Without another word, he bolted down the trench, sonic screwdriver in hand. Eleven and Ten followed him, understanding finally shooting across their minds like lightning in the Time Vortex.

"Allons-y!"

**Thanks so much for reading =]**


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